


Home

by rosegoldpearls



Series: Daryl Dixon Drabbles [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Loss, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 16:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17625776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldpearls/pseuds/rosegoldpearls
Summary: After a particularly bad run and the emotions that follow, you and Daryl have a passionate encounter





	Home

 

You were tired. Exhausted, actually, but it wasn’t the kind that sleep could fix. There was an ache in your bones that screamed for relief that would never come, not in this world. Your heart thudded in your chest, a heavy, weary beat that begged for the days of life before. Before, when the struggles of day-to-day life did not mean life or death. When losing someone was a shock, unexpected, and not just another number on a long, long list.

 

Your shoulders curled in on themselves, and you avoided eyes as you trudged up to your house. As you approached the house you shared with Maggie and Glenn, you almost bumped into Rick, who remained silent as he patted your shoulder, his eyes saying everything.

 

You’re home, you’re safe, you’ve got us.

 

You simply nodded, mustering a tiny smile as you headed inside. Home, you thought as you glanced around the living area. Was Alexandria really home, or was it just a temporary sanctuary? Would it too be torn down by the dead, or worse, other groups?

 

You shook your head, unable for anymore of your morose thinking. You should be grateful, you knew that. You had returned, others had not.

 

You made your way upstairs, stripping off bloodied and torn clothes as you went. The shower water was already warm when you switched it on, and you stopped for a moment to marvel at the fact that you no longer had to bathe in river water. After a moment of thought, you turned up the heat, and stepped into the water’s spray.

 

The water was hot against your skin, and it turned your arms a shade of red that probably wasn’t good. It was better, you thought, than the shade of brown that the water turned into as it pooled by the drain.

 

The old blood of the dead disappeared as you watched it swirl down the drain, gradually becoming lighter and lighter as the water began to run clear.

 

As you massaged shampoo into your hair, you hissed as a sharp pain exploded through your side. Glancing down, a moment of fear passed through you as you inspected the wound. There was no bite, you knew that. The wound was red, angry, spots of blood here and there, but there were no teeth marks. No signs of infection.

 

You bit your lip hard as you let the hot water run over the wound, flushing it out. You had to lean against the cool tile wall to finish your shower after that.

 

Sometime later, you switched the shower off and grabbed your change of clothes. A pair of black leggings and a grey, thick jumper that hung off one shoulder. You pulled a hairbrush through your tangled curls, hiking up your jumper to treat your wound. Some ointment and a bandage later, you wiped the fog from the mirror and stared at your reflection.

 

With a sigh, you poked and prodded at your face. There was a blueish-purple bruise beginning on the side of your jaw, and you winced at the memory of how your injuries occurred.

 

A soft tap at the window of your bedroom drew you out of the bathroom. Daryl was leaning against the window, and you knew he had used the ladder outside to get there. It was there for emergencies, really. A quick escape from a second-storey building. However, in recent months, the ladder had been reserved for nights like these.

 

You weren’t sure when this little routine that started. One night, after a particularly rough day, you had taken to the front porch, staring up at the stars. Across the road, the door to the Grimes’ house had opened, and Daryl had stepped outside.

 

Silently, he had made his way over, taking a seat beside you as he smoked. Sometimes, the two of you talked. Other times, you sat silently as you both processed whatever shit had you up whilst everyone else slept.

 

Sometimes you would go to Daryl, other times he would come to you. It didn’t really matter, wasn’t exactly scheduled, but you were glad he had decided to come to you tonight.

 

You didn’t think you had it in you to leave your bedroom and face the world outside.

 

“Ya ok?” His gruff voice startled you out of your thoughts.

 

“No,” you replied honestly. “But I’m better than the Sampson’s.”

 

Daryl nodded, falling silent again. He moved to sit on the window seat, and you followed, letting out a sigh.

 

Your eyes went to the window, and you wondered how the Sampson’s were doing right then. Who had been the one to break the news? Who was there with them now, to make sure they got through the first night of their loss?

 

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall, the memory of the incident flashing to your mind.

 

It had been a normal run. It hadn’t been necessary so it was short, with the plan scheduled to have everyone home before dark. No one had anything larger than a duffel bag to fill with supplies, and there was no significant rush to get in and get out.

 

Considering the lack of urgency on this run, the scouting team had decided to extend their numbers. Daryl had approached you, asking if you wanted to go. You had agreed, and just before noon, you had made your way to the front gates.

 

Two other people had decided to join the pre-made team comprising of Daryl, Michonne and some of the Alexandrian folk. Glenn was usually there too, but he was recovering from a cold, and decided it was best he sit this one out. The two other tag-alongs had been Bridget Weller, and Buzz Sampson. Bridget was a middle-aged woman who was quick on her feet but mostly stayed within the walls. Buzz was younger, in his early 20s, and despite being shy, he was a sweetheart with an eye for shooting. He was athletic, strong, and ready to prove himself capable.

 

Outside the walls, there was a noticeable difference in the three of you. Bridget was quick to startle, though she never made a noise, which was good. Buzz was alert, but occasionally spoke too loud or too soon. You, on the other hand, had years of experience outside the walls, and Daryl couldn’t help the proud grin when you took down your first walker in weeks.

 

“Like ridin’ a bike,” he had said.

 

“Or a biker,” you had replied, a smirk on your lips as he rolled his eyes, unaware of the redness creeping up his neck as he glanced back at his bike.

 

The light hearted mood had been ripped to shreds as soon as your group had reached your destination. It was quiet at the mouth of the little town, the kind of quiet that felt unnatural. No birds chirped, no walkers moaned. It seemed to be clear, and that could be dangerous.

 

As it turned out, a new group had made this little town their new stomping grounds, unaware that Alexandria lay just a few hours away. They seemed just as shocked to see you as you were them when Buzz stumbled across them.

 

The house had been nestled away behind a small corner store. Buzz had stomped his way towards it, barely hesitating as he pushed open the unlocked door. You had rushed to stop him, Bridget following. The rest of the group were inside the store, clearing it out, and you had been left in charge.

 

“Well, well, well,” a man’s voice had stopped you dead in your tracks, and you saw Buzz put his hands up in surrender. “What do we have here?”

 

“Uh, a fellow survivor?” Buzz had replied, sounding far too nervous to sell his light reply. He glanced back at you, and you stepped up behind him quickly, gripping tight to the knife on your hip. Your gun rested heavily against your ankle, begging to be grabbed.

 

“And his pretty little friends,” the man finished, his grin filthy. You allowed your eyes to stray for a moment, counting how many other people were inside. There were three men in the living room, and judging by a creek at the top of the stairs, at least one other hiding out of sight.

 

Beer cans littered the floor, the smell of marijuana so strong that it stung your nose. Clearly these men weren’t so focused on survival as they were enjoying the freedom the new world provided. Weapons lay on the table, a collection of guns and blades that could easily do a lot of damage.

 

Part of you wanted to scream, wanted to alert the others to the situation, but another part of you knew that biding your time would allow for a sneak attack. Another part of you wished for a peaceful resolution where everyone said bye and went their separate ways, no blood spilled. That part of you was shut up very quickly by something called common sense.

 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” One of the other men asked, his eyes drinking in Bridget.

 

“B-Bridget,” the woman replied.

 

“Well, B-Bridget,” the first man mocked, “It’s nice to meet you. And what about you, honey? You gotta name?”

 

“Sorry, I was told not to talk to strangers,” you replied, tipping your chin up in defiance.

 

“We’re not strangers!” The man chuckled. “We’re fellow survivors, like your boy here said. Hell, if you want, we can even be friends.”

 

“I have friends,” you replied.

 

“Well then maybe we can be more than friends,” he winked at you, causing you to grimace.

 

Behind you, Bridget gasped and you turned around to see the third man standing right behind her, his nose to her ear.

 

“I like that idea,” he breathed.

 

“Hey, now, don’t be like that,” Buzz tried to intervene. “Ya don’t gotta be those guys.”

 

“We don’t gotta,” the second man agreed. “But we can. It’s a new world, my man. We can do whatever we want.”

 

You reached out and grasped Bridget’s wrist, pulling her quickly between yourself and Buzz.

 

“Look, we don’t want trouble, ok? We can leave, you can stay, and no one has to get hurt in the process.”

 

You felt yourself get grabbed and pulled roughly to one side. Your back hit someone’s chest so hard that it knocked the wind from you, and the arm that locked around your shoulders was uncomfortably tight and warm.

 

“See, that plan sounds fine and dandy, little miss, but, my plan sounds better, wanna hear it?”

 

“Not really,” You winced as the first man’s grip tightened on you. Bridget held onto Buzz tightly, who had a gun pressed firmly to his head by man number three.

 

“See, my buddies and I are havin’ a party. We got booze, we got weed, and now, the good lord has sent us some sweet ass,” his breath was harsh against the side of your face. “And I intend to accept his gift.”

 

You felt his lips brush your neck, though they never made full contact. Instead, something whizzed by your ear, and the man holding you quickly lost his grip.

 

You spun around and noticed the arrow sticking from his chest. Thinking fast, you drew your knife and sank it into his head. You threw yourself to the floor as a gunshot sounded, reaching down to draw your own gun.

 

Daryl burst through the open door, Michonne and the others following. Michonne quickly took down the other man, Daryl aiming his crossbow at the stunned third.

 

As Daryl did, movement on the stairs caught your attention, and with no time to warn him, you aimed and fired just as the fourth man did.

 

The bullet ricocheted off of the wall, hitting a vase and shattering it to pieces. Bridget yelped as a piece of it nicked at her arm, Buzz reassuring her that she was ok.

 

“You alright?” Daryl asked you, and you nodded in reply.

 

“I’m sorry, I should have checked before I barged in here,” Buzz shook his head.

 

Daryl opened his mouth, but you gripped his arm, looking at Buzz.

 

“Next time you won’t forget.”

 

Buzz nodded, thankful that you weren’t angry. You were, a little bit, but the good guys had won, and he looked so ashamed already that you couldn’t add to it.

 

Once outside and back on the main road, it became apparent that the trouble had only begun. A swarm of walkers, drawn by the noise, blocked the path between your group and your vehicles.

 

There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide as they all caught sight of fresh meat, shambling their way towards you. The breath left your lungs in a horrified whoosh as you quickly counted. 20, at least. 30, at most.

 

Within minutes, chaos had descended. Your knife had gotten lodged in a walker’s skull, and without the time to remove it, you were left with your gun. More and more walkers seemed to trickle out of the sidelines, and soon enough, you were out of ammo and relying on the gun’s heavy weight to cave in their already mushy brains.

 

A tight grip on your ponytail had you stumbling backwards, and you twisted so fast to remove yourself from the dead woman’s grip that you tripped.

 

Your face hit the asphalt, your side scraping against the ground as pain bloomed on your hip. Your gun hit the ground beside you and bounced before you could grab it. The walker’s heavy weight fell on top of you, and you struggled to keep its gnashing jaw away from your skin.

 

Your arms were shaking by the time the walker’s head was yanked back, a knife sailing through the air and into its head. Daryl tossed the body away from you, reaching down and pulling you up. He tugged on your hand, pushing you towards his bike. Together, you climbed on, and drove off after the Jeep the rest of your group was in.

 

It was about ten minutes later that the Jeep pulled over. Once the bike was stopped, Daryl began quickly checking you over for wounds, inspecting your side for anything other than scrapes. Ahead of you, Michonne was putting pressure on Buzz’s thigh, blood staining the ground beneath him.

 

You pushed Daryl aside, promising you were fine before rushing over to help. Buzz’s leg was covered in bright, wet blood. His face was pale, dark circles already under his eyes as Bridget sobbed.

 

“What happened?” You asked, pressing down with Michonne.

 

“He was helping me,” Bridget sobbed. “It came out of nowhere, a little one. Bit him before we knew it was there.”

 

“Kids never liked me,” Buzz joked, a cough escaping his lips. “Guess I was too boring for them. Tasty enough, though.”

 

You smiled at him, at his attempt to lighten the mood. Michonne caught your eyes and discreetly shook her head. He was losing too much blood. You didn’t have the tools to amputate, and even then, it was probably too late.

 

Blood brightened Buzz’s pale lips as you felt a hand press against your back. Daryl leaned down beside you, his arm resting on his knee.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do better,” Buzz smiled sadly.

 

“Ya did alright,” Daryl spoke. “Kept your cool with those guys, saved Bridget. In my books, ya did good.”

 

Buzz seemed genuinely content with the praise, and he shot you a soft smile as tears stung at your eyes.

 

“I’m good,” Buzz nodded softly. “I’ll be good. Can - can ya do somethin’ for me?”

 

“Anything,” Bridget nodded.

 

“Tell Mom and Pop, tell ‘em I wasn’t hurtin’. Tell my little brother, tell him he’s stronger than he knows. And tell ‘em all... tell ‘em I love them. And that I’m proud of them. All of them.” Buzz’s words were heartbreaking, but everyone listening gave him a nod, promising to pass the message on.

 

He gave a small smile, blood dripping from his mouth and down his cheek. His eyes stared straight ahead, and he nodded to himself, as if preparing.

 

“I’ll be good,” he whispered, before his eyes glazed over, and his body fell slack.

 

Bridget’s sobs broke through the heartbreaking silence, and one of the Alexandrian’s grasped her shoulders, lifting her away. You looked down at your bloody hands, a tear trickling down your face as you got up to retrieve a rag for yourself and Michonne.

 

When your back was turned, you heard the unmistakable sound of a knife sinking into flesh, and you shuddered.

 

“Ya cold?”

 

Once more, Daryl’s voice startled you back to the present, and you shook your head.

 

“Jus’... jus’ thinkin,” you said. “Who told the Sampson’s? Who gave ‘em Buzz’s message?”

 

“Bridget did. She went right over there once we got back. Didn’t see her come back out so she must still be there,” Daryl answered.

 

You nodded, dropping your head forward.

 

“Ya came too close today,” Daryl said. “Too damn close.”

 

“It ain’t about me. I didn’t come as close as Buzz. He’s the one who didn’t get to come home,” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

 

“Still, ya gotta take it easy over the next couple days,” Daryl said. “Did ya clean that wound?”

 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “What about you? You got a few bumps and bruises too.”

 

“Ain’t nothin’.”

 

You shook your head. “You say that, but you once got stabbed by your own arrow and tried to walk it off.”

 

“Ain’t nearly as bad this time,” Daryl raised an eyebrow.

 

“Maybe not, but if I gotta take it easy then you do too,” You scooted forward to bump his shoulder. “Those are my conditions.”

 

“Fine,” Daryl huffed, almost amused. Then he shook his head, bringing his thumb to his mouth. “Sick o’ losing people.”

 

“I know,” you nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Never gets any easier.”

 

“Nah,” Daryl agreed.

 

You bit down on your bottom lip, before sitting back up and looking at him.

 

“Promise me somethin’?”

 

“Hm?” Daryl grunted, turning his head towards you.

 

“Promise me you won’t get killed?”

 

Daryl paused, his blue eyes searching your face. Tears sprang to your own eyes, a feeling of desperation settling deep in your chest.

 

“I mean, I know you can’t guarantee... I know that no one can, even before, but... promise me you’ll do everything you can to come home no matter what.”

 

Daryl watched you for a moment, then nodded. “Promise. Is that what this is? Home?”

 

“I didn’t necessarily mean Alexandria,” you answered honestly. “I meant home, to me. Promise me you’ll always come home to me.”

 

Daryl watched you for a moment before he reached up, and wiped a tear from your cheek. His rough hand gently cupped your cheek, his fingertips soft as they traced the blossoming bruise on your jaw.

 

Your eyes fell to his lips, an urge to close the gap between you overwhelmingly strong. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, his lips were against yours.

 

The kiss was soft but firm, a promise passing between your joined lips like a whisper. Daryl’s thumb stroked your cheek as the kiss broke, his forehead leaning against yours.

 

“I promise.”

 

This time, it was you who leaned in. Your lips fell against his with a delicious pressure, your hand coming up to rest against his stubbled jaw. Daryl tilted his head, his hand tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, tongues dipping out to explore.

 

The room around you suddenly felt far too warm, and the desperation from before reared it’s head, begging for more. As Daryl’s other hand came up to grip your waist, your free hand trailed down to his chest, where his heart beat fast against your palm.

 

Daryl broke the kiss to stand up, pulling you up off the window seat and back against him. His hands tugged softly on your jumper and you complied with his silent request, pulling away to pull the clothing off of you.

 

His hands pushed up as you pulled, the roughness of his skin creating a tingle against the skin of your belly.

 

“Daryl,” You shivered, his lips sucking at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. He slowed his pace as he reached the bruise on your jaw, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss against it that was so gentle it made your heart skip.

 

With somewhat shaky hands, as Daryl continued his trail along your neck, you began to undo his shirt, pushing it off his broad shoulders.

 

The scars he hid were no secret to you, and your fingertips trailed along them as you made your way up to grip his jaw. You brought your lips back to his as Daryl spun you around, leading you over towards your bed as your bra fell to land beside your jumper.

 

Landing on the bed, you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as Daryl let you drop. You moved to crawl up towards the pillows as Daryl reached toward his belt, undoing it quickly. Your hands joined his and you helped him to remove his pants, leaving him clad in only his boxers.

 

Daryl’s hands fell to your hips as you cupped him, stroking him through the material of his boxers. He grunted into your neck, coming to lean over you as his hand slid between your own legs. He grasped the waistband of your leggings, tugging both them and your underwear down in one quick motion.

 

Once they were tossed away, his hand returned to its previous spot, and he slid a finger against your heat, making your hips buck upwards.

 

His lips met yours once again as his fingers explored, his other hand gripping your knee and pulling it to one side. One finger slipped inside of you in one quick motion, another coming to join a second later. His thumb brushed against your clit with an urgency that had you gasping for breath.

 

Daryl continued his movements as your breath grew more and more shallow, your cheeks blossoming red with need. Daryl picked up the pace as soft sounds escaped your lips, your mouth open in a breathless gasp.

 

“I want you,” you breathed, lifting your head to press your lips against his shoulder in an attempt to stop your cries.

 

“You have me,” Daryl whispered against your skin, and with a quick flick of his wrist, you came undone, holding onto him tightly as though he was your lifeline.

 

As the pleasure subsided, leaving tingly chills in its wake, your hand found his length once more. You pushed away his boxers, allowing him to throw them off before you pumped him once, twice, a third time.

 

“Need a condom,” Daryl groaned, drilling against your hand.

 

“Top drawer,” you told him, letting him go so that he could retrieve one.

 

You watched as he rolled the condom onto himself, smiling breathlessly up at him as he rested above you.

 

“Hi,” you smiled at him, his length brushing against your core in a way that left you breathless and aching.

 

“Hi,” he replied, bending to lean his forehead against yours. You cupped his cheeks, opening your legs as you kissed him softly on the lips.

 

Daryl kept kissing you as he slid inside, rolling his hips until he was all the way in.

 

“Ya ok?”

 

You nodded, kissing his cheek as he began to thrust. The friction between you and him continued to grow, and soon enough, you could feel the pleasure rising inside of you once again.

 

Daryl’s breathing became heavier and heavier and you knew he was close. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around him, rolling your own hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

 

“Shit,” Daryl cursed against your skin, groans spilling from his lips.

 

When it became apparent that he was close, Daryl reached between you both and began to stroke your clit once more. His touch caused you to cry out, your hips rolling against his faster and faster until your body stilled, and you began to fall once more.

 

Daryl’s own thrusts paused, a shudder ripping through him as he came, his head dropping to your chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

 

The both of you lay in silence, listening to the noises of the street below, and the pounding of your own hearts. The world outside was mourning. It was scary, and harsh. But the world inside your bedroom was safe. It was loving, and it was warm.

 

And the man who lay beside you, who wrapped you in his arms and pressed his lips against your forehead...

 

He was your home.


End file.
